Superpowers
by infinite-repeat
Summary: Leslie's not Wonder Woman. And she knows that. Leslie/Ben


Ben applauds for her, sheepishly, when she's done reading off her idea doily. And she grins and feels invincible, just for a moment, before realizing she needs to head home and get cleaned up. There's a lot to do and she's pretty much a walking mess.

The last day hadn't been the best. Leslie's not Wonder Woman. And she knows that. She knows she (as well as all women, she has to be inclusive) has the potential to be. But she isn't.

She has to take a cab back to the Quiet Corn to pick up her car, to drive back to her house and clean herself up. It's a lot of thinking time.

She's spent so many years of her life on parks. Just playgrounds, and rec center classes, and little events at the pool or movie night at Ramsett. The Harvest Festival was something different, something huge and established and people are acting like it was all her. She's getting the interviews, the handshakes at the supermarket, the ceremonies at City Hall. And it _wasn't _all her. She wouldn't have been able to build that on her own. She had her whole department behind her.

She had Ben.

Ben, who stayed up with her at 3am when she panicked about the corn maze being finished in time. Ben, who single-handedly got extra cotton candy and funnel cake machines at the last minute. Ben, who donned a Lil Sebastian shirt and ran around with her all week like two kids in a candy shop.

Ben, who kept referring to her as Leslie Knope, like that should solve all her problems. But it doesn't.

She has dreams. Big dreams. She still hopes to hold elected office, and that spans from Pawnee's City Council all the way to the Oval Office. But she isn't blind. She knows she's 37 and still here. She knows that she spent the better part of her career on small things, and this one big thing has set the bar. She knows that bar's going to be hard to top.

Ben's gotten used to Super Leslie. Everyone has. No one remembers Lot 48 Leslie, who couldn't even get approval for one playground and nearly got the government involved in a lawsuit when she tried to push forward. But Leslie remembers, and while she felt good about her progress at the time, she's got the Harvest Festival numbers contrasting with the fact that the lot is still a lot, and well. She isn't Super Leslie all the time.

Now that she's showered and put on a crisp charcoal grey blazer for the day, she knows she needs to stop thinking about this stuff. She has the ideas, now. She just has to march back to work and turn them into reality. That's what she was expected to do, and at least people had faith in her.

She's shocked to discover it's already noon when she gets back to work. As she settles back into her office, she hears a knock on the window behind her. She turns to see Ben holding up a styrofoam box with a smile, shaking it and nodding his head toward the tables. She grins like it's a reflex, but it worries her a little, to be around him. He thinks so highly of her, and she nearly let him down.

When she gets to the courtyard, Ben's already set up at a table, munching away at his own carry-out container filled with french fries. He throws her a lopsided smile as she sits down, pushing the other box toward her.

"I don't eat waffles for every meal, you know," she says with a grin, opening the lid.

"I bet you wish you did."

"You got me there. Thanks."

It's quiet as they eat, but not awkward. Leslie likes it; it's sunny out and there's a brisk breeze. Fall in Pawnee is always nice before the rain hits, and Ben seems so at home in it. It's comforting.

"Hey, uh," he begins, setting aside his food. "I got you lunch because I wanted to apologize."

"For what?" she asks, wiping some whipped cream off the side of her mouth.

Just then, Kyle shuffles by jabbering into his cell phone, Jerry sits down with a book one table over, and the pigeons congregate under their feet in pursuit of a few dropped fries.

"Can we, um, take a walk or something," Ben stammers, backing away from the birds. Leslie laughs and nods.

"We've got enough time to go to Ramsett," she offers. "It's just down the block."

They meander down the sidewalk, laughing at a fluffy golden retriever as it pulls its owner past them. But Ben doesn't really talk until their feet hit woodchips, descending down a hill to a duck pond nearby.

"Anyway, I was apologizing," he starts, looking down at his feet.

"I feel like I should be the one doing that," she admits, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her blazer, like it shrunk on the way over. She shifts her arms around.

"Wait, why?"

"I had no ideas!" she lets out a little loudly, causing a few ducks to ruffle their feathers. "Everyone thought I'd have something great, but I just had nothing, and you were all so disappointed-"

"You just came in with ten ideas this morning," he reminds her, sitting down on a bench near the water. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I mean, I put all that pressure on you..."

"Ben," she groans, her nose scrunching. "You had faith in me. That's nice, usually."

"But not what you needed to hear," he adds.

"I still appreciate it," she says, tentatively sitting down next to him, leaving a wide gap in between. "I just didn't want to let you down. And everyone else."

"You never do," he says quietly, and she feels it again, that remorse, like he thinks she's some bionic superhero.

"I don't have this kind of success every day, Ben," she tells him, but stares at the ducks. "You almost shut my department down, remember?"

"But you saved the day." She just shrugs, kicks at the dirt. "I mean, hey, I walked out of the Festival when I thought all the mess was my fault. But last night, you kept trying."

"You came back, though." She reaches over to pat his arm, and realizes the weird distance between them. She slides closer, which seems to unnerve him.

"Ah, well." But he can't finish his thoughts, and he's suddenly flustered. She can't stop smiling, and it isn't because she thinks this is funny, but because Ben is... well, human. And like her. Which she knew, but still.

"Maybe we're just two losers," she announces with glee, throwing her hands up in surrender. He finally breaks a smile, and it makes her feel loads better. She doesn't even think twice before hiding her face in his shoulder as she laughs.

"Yeah," he says, chuckling. When she raises her head, she sees that he still has that look, that adoration in his eyes, and it gives her butterflies. But she still needs him to know.

"But just, I don't have super powers. You know that, right?"

"I do," he says, though he looks like he maybe doesn't believe it.

"And I know you're not cursed or a teenage failure or whatever."

"Just Ben," he concedes with a sigh.

"Just Ben," she echoes, resting her head against his shoulder. Just Ben is all she needs. He hesitates for a second before pressing a light kiss on her forehead, and her stomach is doing a bunch of weird things, and... _oh_.

So that's what all of this has meant.

"Hey, uh, Just Ben," she says quietly, lifting her head again to look at him. He looks down expectantly, and she reaches behind his head, pulling his lips down to hers. And she wonders why she hadn't done this before, but realizes she hadn't really thought about it. And now, with his hand in her hair and her bottom lip between his, she's not sure why.

They go a little over their lunch hour, walking back slowly, her hand clasped in his. And when they get back, everyone in the department looks to her for instructions on that new observatory tower idea, but Ben's smile reminds her that it's okay to not have all the ideas.

"What do you think, Jerry?" she asks, and they all groan.

"Really?" Ben inquires. "Jerry?"

Ben ends up taking charge of the idea, while Leslie moves on to movie night in the park. And she's fine with sharing the superpowers.


End file.
